


Be Still My Beating Heart

by HisBossBitch (Kithi1), Kithi1



Series: His Elizabeth Boland [4]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Canon Rewrite, Drinking & Talking, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Bromance, Epic Friendship, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Flashbacks of great sex, Flashbacks of happiness-inducing sex, Hate to Love, Heavy Drinking, Hopeful Ending, Humor, Hurts So Good, Love/Hate, Male Friendship, POV Rio (Good Girls), Parent Rio (Good Girls), Pregnancy, Prequel to beth Boland BAMF, Rio (Good Girls) Being an Asshole, Soft Rio (Good Girls), The feels. All the feels and lord help me coz I wish I had a friendship like this., Unplanned Pregnancy, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Walk Into A Bar, prequel to rio BAMF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kithi1/pseuds/HisBossBitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kithi1/pseuds/Kithi1
Summary: Rio forces beth to the obstetrician. He sees something unexpected: or does he? Wouldn't you like to know!Rio has some reckoning to do with himself in preparation for him going nuclear on Detroit underworld: soon. He and Mick drink at THE bar and sort out some baggage that needs sorting.😘 Pls stick with me and check out my previous work. It's all related and leading up to something, awesome. Hint: beth Boland BAMF, rio BAMF.
Relationships: Beth Boland & Mick, Beth Boland/Rio, Mick/Rio (Good Girls)
Series: His Elizabeth Boland [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030728
Comments: 34
Kudos: 91





	1. Now Where Do We Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissTricey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTricey/gifts).



> For MissTricey 😘
> 
> I always write with excitement and anticipation of you reading this series and I hope you enjoy it all. 
> 
> Kind reader, thank you for reading my work. Lemme know if you loved it or what you thought in general, 😘 
> 
> This is kind of the prequel to a shifts in power and relationships dynamics (upcoming works soon). Oh and you will find recurring motifs so enjoy the treasure hunt: stuff like recurring scents, words, thoughts etc that tie the works in this series together. And they're scattered throughout the works like Easter eggs. 
> 
> As always, looking forward to your comments

**_Be Still My Beating Heart_ **

**_Now where do we go_ **

He’s got his game-face on by the time they get upstairs. He can feel a malicious little mood coming on; like he wants to be an asshole and he is too cranky to try not to be. Yeah, he knows it’s childish but his emotions have been out of whack since he woke up in that hospital bed. _So sue me!_ he thinks.

Elizabeth is no less tense now than she was in the car. He can tell that she wants to bolt and it simultaneously pisses him off and sends a thrill through him. _No shit!_ he scoffs. Yeah, everything about Elizabeth pisses him off these days. And now she’s prey and he’s just about ready to swoop in for the kill. He swallows; the eagle on his neck shifts then settles. 

With his hand on her back, he leads her firmly to the couch, drops into it, crosses his leg at the knee, takes out his phone and promptly ignores her. He knows; she hates it. She’s always a little pissy when he gives her less than his undivided attention. And the fact that he’s ignoring her in favour of the phone will just irritate her that much more. _Good._ She’s seated ramrod-straight, pointedly ignoring him too. _Yeah, yeah. Game’s just starting. Best loosen up, mami._

“Your first?” She’s friendly, the very pregnant lady seated across from them. Beth is staring off into the distance; she doesn’t respond. She’s usually got such a mouth on her. Huh! Who knew anything could shut her up? He shakes his head; he had been thinking about Elizabeth from _Before._ And he has an unsettled feeling in his gut because she’s literally only said ten words to him since he returned and two of those words have brought them to this moment in time; _I’m pregnant._

_That_ Elizabeth was evidently gone. _This_ Elizabeth ain’t talking back at him. Vaguely, he wonders if she’s coming back; Elizabeth from _Before._ He sort of thinks he liked the mouthy one better. _Our first?_ He lowers his phone; this is the perfect opening. Opportunity does not, in his experience, beat down your door. He has always had to go out and create the opportunities for himself and yet, here he is being handed one for free. 

“Nah, nah,” he chuckles. _The sixth_ ; he is tempted to say it just for kicks. That would make her fuckin’ mad. _Yeah, yeah. Best not drag the kids into this clusterfuck,_ he tells himself. See, he’s not a complete asshole. 

“When are you due?” 

Rio smirks. Because, _yeah._ That’s a great question; _When are you due, Eizabeth, for that baby of mine you’re not pregnant with?_ He rests his hand on the couch behind her shoulders; he means to discomfit her. She sits up straighter as he turns to her, plays up the happy baby-daddy vibe; “Honey?” 

She fixes him with a death glare. If looks could kill… well. _Sorry sweetheart. Hate to disappoint. It don’t work like that._ He smiles smugly at her; this is just so…entertaining. “I guess that’s why we’re here then, huh.” He laughs along with the other woman and he can feel Elizabeth’s dagger-eyes on him and all they’re doing is egging him on. _Please, please; say something else;_ he wills the other woman to continue. She has been the perfect foil for this game of brinkmanship and he wants to push things until Elizabeth breaks for him.

“How crazy to think there’s a tiny human in there.” _Good God!_ This is so good that it might as well have been scripted. He wants to laugh; it’s almost too easy. His arm is on still on the back of the couch; he props his head on it; leans towards her; invades her space. Then he very deliberately, insolently, drags his gaze down her body and back up to her face. She looks disgusted with him so he smirks at her, goads her more. And _fuck!_ It’s crazy to think that there might be his baby in her; There’s a stirring of heat low in his belly; there goes his body, trying to betray him.

Except he is sure he doesn’t believe her because he knows her sweet lying mouth and there’s no mess it can’t talk her into or out of. _Come on, Elizabeth. Take the bait, mama._ What kind of idiot does she take him for anyway? _You’re an idiot;_ Gun to her head and she had called him an idiot…to his face. _Goddamn Elizabeth._ Regardless, the truth is about to out...any minute now.

_And then what?_ The thought sounds so loud in his mind; the answer, just as deafening. _And then she dies._ He shivers. _Fuck!_ He’s got to keep playing his hand; _come on, mami. break for me, baby._ “Yeah, yeah. It almost doesn’t feel real.” She bolts; he has been ready for it so he grabs her arm and pulls her back down beside him, plays up the proud baby-daddy, rests his hand on her knee, pats her thigh. He tells her to chill. It’s a poor echo of that moment in the car when he’d squeezed her thigh and felt them falling into each other. He reminds himself that he’s enjoying goading her. 

“The doctor will see you now.” He has got a not-quite-gentle hand on her back. He tells himself that he’s doing it to irritate her. But maybe a small part of him wants to acknowledge that he has missed having his hands on her. Either way, she is annoyed and he is pleased about that.

“The date of your last period?” She hates how invasive it feels. This kind of thing had been okay with Dean but this farce going on between her and Rio is sickening. She thinks maybe he should just shoot her and get it over with. She can’t take much more of this strain. She feels nauseous. _Last period?_ She shakes her head. 

“Any idea when you conceived?” The question calls up a memory; of Rio’s face pressed between her thighs and the soft groan he had made as he pulled her astride him and pressed himself to her cunt. She had already come thrice and hadn’t thought she could go again. But she was slick from her orgasms and dripping with his cum; so when he grabbed her hips and pulled her down hard, he had bottomed out in one long drive; and she felt herself caught in a place between pleasure and pain; and he had done it again and again and again; and then he had whispered, “come for me, mama”; and suddenly there was only pleasure and she had arched her back and come and come and sobbed out his name. 

And she had opened her eyes and he had been smiling up at her and she had tried to smile back. But she was jelly and so he had pulled her down close and wrapped one arm around her waist and been so gentle that she could have cried. And then he had come in her again and pulled out but not pulled away. And she had been happy…for a moment. 

She’s trying to push those memories back down when Rio’s voice cuts in, “Come on, darling. You remember; I hit it in the bedroom when your husband was at work.” He looks up from his phone and smirks at her and the doctor. And suddenly she wants to throttle him. She is furious and she is embarrassed and she is sick of his smugness and his spiteful little game and she is scared of him and she wants to hit him. Because, _God!_ Haven’t they destroyed each other enough? Do they now have to destroy even the memories of the things that had been good? And then she realizes that maybe he doesn’t have any good memories from that day because she had kicked him out and maybe she had hurt his feelings. _As if!_

And she still feels like she wants to hit him. But she doesn’t; just listens to the doctor who thinks it might be too early to check for a heartbeat and only wants to take blood to confirm the pregnancy; that will take a day or two. She already knows he will ask for the scan anyway. Evidently, even a day or two is too long for him to wait to decide if her kills her. He is staring her down when he says, “Hey doc, it couldn’t hurt to try, right?” She knows resistance is futile so she lies back as told and tries not to look at him. 

“We’ve got a super-excited daddy here.” He grins at her; a self-satisfied grin that she would like to wipe off his face. “That’s right,” he chuckles; it’s entirely devoid of mirth. _Moment of truth, mami,_ he thinks. But then his face goes cold and his jaw locks because _Fuck!_ This _is_ the moment of truth. He looks ready to kill something. Her. Preferably. But in his chest, his heart is beating and beating and he’s afraid; he’s just so deathly afraid. 

Then the doctor is inserting the probe and asking after Marcus and Rio sounds like any other parent; happy and proud of his son who keeps him on his toes. 

“Congratulations,” The doctor says. “Strong implantation, healthy gestational sac. Looks like you’re almost nine weeks into your pregnancy and that’s healthy as it matches up nicely to the date of conception seven weeks ago.” Rio pushes off the wall; comes round for a closer look. He can’t see it. The doctor chuckles; tells him he needs eight years of med school then he can come back and take a look. Still, she points it out; it is a white blob surrounded by small black circle of fluid. The blob is the baby and is about the size of a peanut, the doctor says. Beth meets Rio’s eyes and he looks… surprised, shocked even. 

Then they hear it. It is incredibly fast and loud in the small exam room; _whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp._ It goes on and on and on; and Rio thinks that _Fuck!_ This is the beating heart of the baby he had put in her. And there is something new in his eyes; something unexpected; something hungry…naked…and needy. And in her chest, her heart is beating and beating.

He leaves her there; he wants a paternity test. When she gets home, Mick is in her backyard because Rio has told him to watch her. She climbs into bed and stares into the darkness.

  
  



	2. Chasing Oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio and Mick hang out: they chat. Over a drink or 10.

**_Chasing oblivion_ **

He’s been drinking since 2 o’clock. He has tried to pace himself; really, he has. All he wants is to numb himself to his worries. For tonight he would like to forget the mess his life has become and maybe actually sleep; just for one night. _Just one night!_ But he is about to finish his fourth drink and he finds the sharp edge of his fears is not any duller for it. Plus he thinks that drinking alone is fuckin’ pointless because the thoughts just get louder in your mind; and your fears get distilled by the liquor and they start naming themselves; -fear of death, fear of having to kill, fear of love that is unrequited, fear of losing his claim to the kingdom, fear of being a dad again- and maybe he is not quite ready to be on a first-name basis with those fears; he would prefer to keep a professional distance from them. He just would like to not think tonight; he’s not trying to have a therapy session with himself. _Day-drinking;_ he has got to tell Elizabeth that it fuckin’ sucks. _Oh, wait._ He can’t do that; _she_ is the mess in his life.

He asks for a bottle from the top shelf. He pours his fifth drink of the day; his first from the bottle. _Where the fuck is Mick?_ Rio thinks that maybe he needs to race his worries down the bottle. He is sure he’ll lose them before he gets to the bottom. He asks himself what he hopes to find there. Salvation? _Nah!_ Definitely not that. Solutions? _As if!_ He scoffs. Not for a man like him; he doesn’t _deserve_ any easy solutions. He’ll have to sweat and bleed for them like always. That’s why he needs to just sleep one night and in the morning, he’ll get on with business. _Oblivion;_ that’s the one thing he can count on from this bottle. He’ll take it. 

When Mick shows up, Rio is swirling the last dregs of that fifth drink. Rio is seated at his favourite spot at _the bar_. Mick walks in, stands next to him. “Hey, Mick. Where you been? Was about to send the cavalry for you,” Rio says. He takes the bottle, grabs a glass from the bartender and pours a drink for him. Mick makes no move to take it. 

“More, ” he says. So Rio pours more into the glass. Mick still doesn’t take it; just motions with his finger and tuts. “More.” 

“Okay, then.” Rio fills the glass to the brim. Mick takes it and just downs it in one gulp. Only then does he move to sit. There’s an empty stool to the left of Rio; Mick doesn’t take it; he can’t explain in words why not. It just feels significant somehow. Instead, he grabs a third stool and tugs it closer to Rio and sits. Rio rests his foot on the footrest of the stool between them. Mick takes a quick look around _the bar_. It’s shaping up to be a busy night; lots of new faces, almost all of the regulars. No seats left open at the bar except the one barstool between him and Rio. 

“Whoa, man! That kind of night, huh?” Rio asks and fills Mick’s glass again. 

“That kind of day. Fuck!” Mick runs a hand over his mouth, smooths it over his beard, exhales a sigh. Mick hardly ever swears so Rio perks up; he knows he sent Mick to Elizabeth’s and now he thinks he’s not going to like what he hears. “Where’ve you been, Mick?”

“Downtown. County.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah,” Mick returns. He is looking pensively into his drink.

“So now I gotta drag it out of you? Come on, man! Just talk already.”

Mick hesitates then says slowly. “Mrs. B called the cops on me.”

“Excuse me?!” Rio sputters.

"Yeah, well…you know how it goes. I showed up last night; she seemed irritated. This morning she was a helluva lot more mad. Comes banging on the car window; said I’d better get lost coz she already called the cops.”

Rio rolls his shoulders. His voice is tight when he speaks. “Go on…” his eyebrows are raised. 

“Well, a patrol car showed up and she chickened out.”

She chickened out… hmm,” Rio sniggers. “What did you do, Mick? She doesn’t just “chicken out” of things. Never a rash decision she didn’t want to make.”

Mick smiles. “Nothing….just maybe mighta’ sorta implied that I would not be laughing when I got back.” He’s grinning now. It’s obvious he is enjoying the retelling of it if not the events themselves. He is having a good time of it. 

Rio laughs. “Good on you, Mick. Sounds like you handled it easy enough.” 

“Oh, No. oh, no no no, no-oh.” Mick’s waggling a finger at Rio, holds out his glass. Rio tops him up. They drink. “Nah, man! She called the cops on me, again.” Rio sits all the way up, pays attention. 

“Yeah, she got her gang of ladies together and I thought we were cool and they were just hanging out. You know how they are; thick as thieves.” 

“They are, Mick.” Rio sniggers, "Fuckin’ thieves.” But his voice carries no heat and he sort of sounds impressed by the ladies and Mick laughs; a deep full-throated laugh. It’s nice. It cheers Rio up. 

“So then the cops show up again and they say they’ve had multiple reports of a man matching my description smoking something suspicious and parked on their street now who looks like he’s asleep.”

Rio barks out a laugh. He can’t help it. He just throws back his head and has a good laugh. The eagle on his neck shifts uncannily. _What the fuck!_ That’s such a fuckin’ unexpected twist to a story that would otherwise piss him off. He’s started to enjoy himself too; he’s sort of forgetting why he had been drinking. 

Mick grins into his drink, takes a sip. It’s obvious he’s tired but he can still laugh over it. That’s one of the reasons he and Rio are as close are they are; his sense of humor just sort of appeals to Rio. There aren’t many people like Mick; none he would rather have at his back than Mick; and Rio has known that for the last 16 years. They’ve done some fighting together. And they’ve done some winning and some losing and some killing and some nearly getting killed themselves and Mick has saved Rio’s life a couple of times and Rio has returned the favour a few times.

“Fuckin’ weird! So…had you been sleeping?” Rio chuckles.

Mick has the grace to look sheepish. “Maybe I was a bit tired after sitting all night in her backyard last night but you know me, I don’t do weed. But then apparently, multiple reports trump my denial. “I got booked. “3 different women” called about it, apparently. Mick makes air-quotes with his hands. “No prize for guessing who they are.

“No shit.” _Goddamn Elizabeth._ But he huffs out a laugh. 

“So I got booked and cooled my heels in county for 6 hours. You know how they are around guys like me.” he gestures to the tattoos on his head. “Wanted a blood sample for testing. Wasn’t about to give them that. So…yeah. County.” 

“Didn’t call Zorada?” 

“I did. I called you too. And you both left me hanging.”

“Ooops.” Rio grimaces. He had had lunch with Zorada after tennis. “Was in a meeting with Zorada and then came here. I needed to deal with some stuff. Sorry, man.” He pours them both new drinks. 

Mick waves a hand negligently, “whatever, man. It’s all good. “Zorada showed up and knocked some heads about around 2 hours ago. She’s hopping mad, just FYI.”

Rio fishes his phone from his pocket; waves it at Mick. It vibrates as he is waving it at Mick and a notification pops up. He unlocks the phone. He has 4 missed calls from his lawyer and three messages. They all say the same thing in different words and the same irritated tone; call me, Christopher. 

He types back, _And good evening to you, too. I’ve got our boy. Thanks for getting him out._

Then follows it up with, _And calm yourself, counselor. Tomorrow._ That will rile her up, he chuckles. 

Another notification pops up, _Who said I’m not calm?_ He knows her; she must be furious. 

He thinks about what he had told Mick about being in a meeting; he had thrown himself into work, then tennis and tried to drag out lunch this morning to avoid thinking about Elizabeth but eventually, Zorada had cut and run. He had gone to the loft and it had been too quiet and the sound of the baby’s heartbeat had been too loud on his mind; _whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp_ endlessly. 

He fills his glass to the brim and gulps it all down; tops it up again. Mick is grimacing at his glass; it’s not their usual. Mick picks up the bottle and sniggers at Rio, “Bourbon, huh?” They both know who drinks bourbon. “That kinda night, huh?” 

Rio hunches his shoulders. “That kind of _week. Christ!_

“Tell me about it!” They both sort of laugh; drink; then stare into their glasses. _Whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp._ Rio shakes his head. 

So, are you going to? Mick prods.

“What? Tell you about it?” Rio asks a bit needlessly. “Nah.” he shakes his head. “Still early in the night.” and it is; it’s just about 11pm. He grabs the bottle, points about ¾ way down; “ask me again when we get right around here." He says it because he trusts Mick with his life but also because he is giving Mick permission to ask again without Mick feeling like he’s overstepping. And he finds himself thinking that he hopes Mick asks him then because maybe then he’ll be plastered enough to say something. He starts to think maybe he needs a therapist after all. 

Mick laughs softly, thumps Rio on the back and shoulder. Rio winces; still hurts. _Goddamn, Elizabeth._ He raises his glass to Mick in a silent toast. They clink glasses and maybe they’re more similar than they think they are because Rio is thinking that Mick is practically his brother at this point _–the brother I never had; brother in arms-_ and Mick says, “Brothers in blood.” They drain their glasses. 

“So she called the cops on you, huh?” Rio sniggers. 

“Twice, man!” Mick shoots back. They both laugh, drink. Rio knows he should probably be mad but he can’t work up the energy. And maybe there’s a part of him that’s happy that the sneaky, scheming Elizabeth from _Before_ is not gone; maybe just hiding out. 

“So whatchu’ going to do?” Rio asks Mick. He’s teasing but maybe he also wants to hear what Mick thinks. 

Mick laughs, honest and open, “Me? This ain’t on me, man! I’ll go back to county next time she calls the cops, if that’s how you wanna play it but this ain’t on me! I’m not getting in the middle of whatever you guys have got going; it’s personal for you, ain’t it?!” He’s still laughing as he finishes. 

Rio doesn’t know what to feel. Maybe scared that Mick can read him so clearly regarding Elizabeth. He wonders how many other people can see what Mick sees. _It’s personal for you, ain’t it?_ the thought echoes between them. He kicks at the empty stool a bit. He’s reluctant to admit that maybe he’s glad Mick knows. He feels like it changes something although he doesn’t know what the something is. But yeah, maybe he’s glad. Because he can trust Mick with her life too. _Fuck!_ Isn’t he supposed to be thinking about _killing_ her? But she’s pregnant and maybe it’s his. He had come in her three times in her bed. _Three;_ that number keeps popping up around her. He wonders which time had gotten her pregnant. And he knows it’s a stupid thought because it had all been in the space of three hours and it made no difference anyway. _Three times; Three hours; Three shots._ He wonders why his chest does not ache so much today; chalks it down to the bourbon. He shakes his head; that’s a cop out and he knows it. 

“Zorada’s real angry,” Mick says and grins a little. “wouldn’t want to be you!”

Rio’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, “So I’ve got some heat coming my way, huh?”

“No shit! Sooooo wouldn’t wanna be you,” Mick repeats, laughing and shaking his head. They drink. There’s a small silence. 

  
  


Then Mick says, “She’s kind of fuckin’ scary, though.” Mick is swearing more than usual but maybe he had knocked back those first couple of drinks real quick, Rio thinks. 

Rio laughs, “Zorada? No worries, Mick. I can take her. Easy!” 

  
  


He’s still laughing when Mick says quietly, “Nah, man! Mrs B. She’s fucking scary. Real crazy too.” It’s an odd thing to see; but Mick shivers. “Crazy scary. Scary crazy.” His eyes are firmly fixed on Rio’s eyes; Rio thinks Mick is trying to drive a message home. Rio feels the hair on the nape of his neck stand. The eagle shifts then settles. 

“Oh, yeah? He wants to tear his gaze from Mick’s; he can’t. 

“Yeah; crazy scary. Scary coz of the crazy.” Rio is suddenly annoyed. He is not sure what he feels about Mick having an opinion on Elizabeth. Then Mick says, even quieter, “She’s nice. I like her.” And Rio is entirely mixed up because now he feels relief that Mick thinks she is crazy and scary but still he likes her; and maybe then it makes sense for Rio to feel the way he does; entirely conflicted about Elizabeth. And maybe it also means Rio can trust Mick with her life for real. And maybe they’ve drunk too much because Mick grins, a smug grin if ever Rio saw one, “Not too sure you can take _her_ though.” 

Rio huffs out a laugh. But at the tail end of it, he swallows hard; W _homp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp._ The eagle shifts then settles. 

Mick tops them up; less than a quarter of the bottle left. “So, Rio…Let’s try this again. That kinda week, huh?” And maybe it’s because Mick doesn’t usually call him Rio or maybe it’s because he needs to get this off his chest anyway. Either way, he takes the bottle; tilts it around; watches the bourbon swirl; pushes the bottle back and forth on the bar. Then he takes a deep breath and his voice is low when he speaks. Mick leans towards him.

“She’s pregnant. And I think it’s mine.” 

Mick rocks back in his seat, takes a shuddering breath. “Fuck!” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Rio whispers into his drink; he’s not laughing anymore. W _homp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp._ He knocks his drink back. 

Mick pours; they nurse their drinks in silence for a long time. A girl comes up to the bar, slips between them and buys a drink. She smiles at Rio; gestures to the empty barstool between Mick and Rio. “Do you mind if I have a seat?” She is pretty and her dress is slinky. She has a nice rack and it is being shown off to advantage by her low-cut dress. She’s a solid eight; maybe more. Rio barely glances at her. 

“Seat’s taken,” Rio says. 

“Oh, but it’s been empty for the longest.” She smiles, bats her eyelashes at him. He rounds on her and he’s got murder in his eyes. But before he can get a word out, Mick stands, fills the empty space between the barstools and growls, “Hey, lady! The seat’s taken." She squeaks, steps back away from Rio and returns to her friends. “Sorry, lady,” Mick mumbles to himself.

“Fuck!” Mick says again. He motions the bartender over; gets three shot glasses. There’s that number 3 again. Three barstools, _Three shots!_ Rio has never been superstitious but a chill runs down his spine. The unspoken understanding; one shot glass for Elizabeth.

Mick pours three shots; pushes one to Rio, takes his and leaves the third between them.

“To brothers, Rio; who will kill for you and bleed for you and die with and for you.” Rio gulps, hesitates. He doesn’t want Mick to die for or with him. Mick squeezes Rio’s shoulder; mutters “freely given, Rio.” And he knocks back his drink. So Rio does the same. And he takes the third shot and downs it too. The eagle shifts then settles. “Freely given, Mick.”

Mick pours three more shots; pushes one to Rio, takes his and leaves the third in between them.

“To War, Rio; for kingdoms and for the women we love. We know, they’ll be the death of us.” And Rio knows someone just walked over his grave. His hair stands. He squeezes his eyes tight, takes a sighing breath and drinks up. So Mick does the same. And Rio takes the third shot and downs it too. The eagle shifts then settles. His voice is so quiet that Mick almost doesn’t hear him; almost. “I don’t think I can take her, Mick. Elizabeth; She tried to kill me and she’ll try it again and one day she’ll get it right. And I know it and I still can’t kill her.” “No shit!” laughs Mick very quietly. 

Mick pours three more shots; pushes one to Rio, takes his and leaves the third in between them. 

“To Babies, Rio; God love them and protect them and preserve their innocence.” Mick raises his glass to Rio and they both drink. Rio swallows hard against the lump in his throat and he thinks maybe he can taste tears at the back of his throat. So he swallows again and the eagle shifts and shifts then settles. And his voice is barely a whisper when he says, “I don’t need the paternity test, Mick, to know what I know. The baby’s mine. I can feel it in my bones.” “Do it anyway," Mick says and Rio nods. He would. And maybe there’s something bittersweet on his face when he smiles and thinks he misses Marcus and he just wants to go home and think about the baby’s heartbeat. _Whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp._

  
  


“I’m beyond shit-faced, Mick.”

And so they stand up and walk out into the night.

And the bottle is empty.

But they’ve left one last shot of bourbon on the bar;

For babies, God love them and protect them and preserve their innocence.

And Rio is not superstitious.

But he had gone looking for oblivion.

And now instead, he thinks maybe fate has found him.

And maybe for the rest of his life,

Just maybe,

Rio will wonder if fate would have been different.

If only he had drank the third shot.

But now he’s beyond shit-faced.

So he really needs to sleep.

Tomorrow,

He wages war; for a kingdom and maybe for love.

**°°°°°°°°°°°°**

There's a knock at her front door. It's Mick. She wants to throttle him; "I'll just keep calling the cops on you." "Boss man wants something," Mick says softly. "what?!" Beth spits out. 

Mick holds out a bag; inside, there's ice-cream and flowers. "For you and the baby," Mick says and walks back to his car. She flushes; "thank you." She shuts the door and leans against it. She doesn't call the cops. 

**Author's Note:**

> Be still my beating heart by sting. Hauntingly beautiful.


End file.
